A Fragile Thread of Gold
by Lrenn
Summary: She was desperate for existence, one a servant could never find. He was fighting to escape what his birth had made him. An arranged marriage and bit of cunning will bring these two together. But a hidden past and other secrets stand in their way. Is a hap
1. AN

A/N…

Thank you so much to all my faithful readers…..I have good news..since just about EVERY one of you commented on the name change…I've decided to acquiesce to your request….so as I'm rewriting the story, the names are going to be the same as the original…the plot is going to be the same…it's just going to sound and 'look' a lot better….anyway…I hope you enjoy……


	2. Prologue

**Prologue**

Rachel's hand was like ice. Her emaciated hand gripped her husband's weakly. Marcus couldn't bear to see the sight of his sister-in-law clinging weakly to the body of his dead brother. Rachel hadn't let them take away the body yet.

"Mamma?"

Marcus turned at the shy, quiet voice. "Isolde, no." He waved the child away. "This isn't the time to…"

"No, Marc." Marcus's heart broke at the strained form of his childhood nickname. His heart broke at the death he saw swimming in her eyes as she gazed at her only child. "Come…here, Isolde. It's alright. Come here."

The four-year-old gave a small toothy grin. She ran over and would have jumped on the bed beside her mother had Marcus not refused to let her take her feet off the floor.

"Mamma? Are you going to be okay? You've had a cold for forever. When are you coming back to play with me?" Marcus's heart constricted at the pain in Rachel's eyes, but he noticed that the little girl's voice held no condemnation. Only innocence as of yet untainted by a cruel world.

Rachel smiled and raised a trembling hand to lie on the girl's curly golden hair. Isolde smiled back, not realizing that this was the last time she would ever see her mother alive. "Is Papa sleeping?"

A tear slipped down Rachel's temple. "Aye, my darling. Papa's sleeping." She struggled to breathe. "I'll be well soon. I promise."

Marcus couldn't watch any longer. He stood and walked away, giving mother and daughter their last good-byes in private.

Rachel let the moment linger, staring for the last time at her daughter's face. Tears welled in her eyes, but she forced them down. Oh, her precious child. She'd never be able to see the look on her face when her first tooth came out or meet her first governess. She'd never meet the young men she was sure to court and she would never order her a wedding dress.

Isolde would grow up an orphan. Rachel's only comfort was the legacy left by herself and her husband. Yes, Isolde was heir to a great legacy.

But she would grow up without a mother. Who would be there to bandage a cut or two? Who would be there to rock her to sleep after a nightmare? Who would be there to mend a broken heart?

"Why are you crying, Mamma? Did I do something wrong?"

Rachel tried to smile. "No, sweet. I'm sorry. I'm…alright. Now, I want you to promise me something. Okay?…promise me that…you'll be a good…girl for your…your uncle. Okay? Promise me."

Eager to make her mother smile again, Isolde nodded, clutching her prized porcelain doll. "I promise, Mamma." She leaned forward and kissed her mother's temple.

"Now, go…play with…Nanny." Her chest burned. Rachel fought to keep from gasping for breath for fear of frightening Isolde.

"Goodnight, Mamma!" Rachel could still feel Isolde's kiss as she watched her walk from the room. She prayed so hard her head hurt. _Let her lead a happy life. Let her one day find someone who will cherish her. Please. _Her thoughts ran together, seeking solace, and finding none.

Marcus returned when he saw the little girl leave, holding tightly to the hand of her nanny. "Rachel?"

Rachel turned her head and gave him a small smile. Tears steadily streamed from her eyes and down her temples. Her breathing was harsh, each breath coming faster and harder than the last. Marcus swiftly made his way to her side.

"Rachel, please. It's going to be okay."

Yet, he knew it wouldn't be."

"Please…take care…care of her, Marc." Her words slurred together as her eyes grew wide with fear. "Take care…of my baby. Don't forget. I ...love you." Rachel blinked rapidly, her hand clutching Marcus's in a vice-like grip he wouldn't have expected from her illness ravaged body. Breathing hard, Rachel closed her eyes and suddenly her grip on his hand slackened. The room was silent, letting Rachel take her last breath.

All that stood in his way now, was one little girl.


	3. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Splinters of light sneaked in between the pairs of crimson velvet curtains, patterning her walkway in the glorious golden shadows. One by one she swung them open, letting the first rays of sunlight grace the palace halls. The high crystal-paned windows glinted softly, sending rainbow slashes over her skin. The Black Mountains, the border between the country of Tlaia and her neighbor Ethane, caught the rays of sunlight, turning the autumn leaves into a vast forest into a sea of sovereign gold.

It was beautiful.

She shook her head. No, it wasn't. No place that held a young woman, an entire castle, captive could be beautiful if. Green eyes, framed by dark lashes, stared out over her home country. Or part of it, anyway. The only part of Tlaia she had ever seen spread out in front of the windows. She had never touched a blade of grass. She had never tasted sunlight that hadn't been filtered through crystal glass. She had never even felt the rain on her skin. Her greatest sadness dwelt in the fact that the palace windows didn't open.

Slowly, she ran her fingers down the glass. Only the guards, gardeners, and stable hands were allowed outside the palace walls. The King's law was absolute. And no one dared dispute King Marcus II. A more vile, ruthless man she'd never met. Or even heard of. The man had killed an entire squadron of soldiers for failing to properly escort him and his wife to their summer home. What they did wrong, no one knew. It was simply the way of the King.

"Haven! Haven Isolde, where are you?"

She flinched at the whispered voice calling her name. "I'm over here, Owen," she called, not bothering to keep her voice down. The headmaster appeared, rounding a corner to Haven's left. His blue eyes twinkled while his firm mouth twisted into a scowl.

"I have a new assignment for you, dear," he growled with early morning fatigue.

Haven cringed inwardly at the endearment. Owen only called her 'dear' when he wanted something from her. "But, Owen," she protested, "I only just got reassigned three days ago."

Owen held up a hand. "I know that, missy. An' keep your voice down. Not everyone wakes at the crack of dawn," he retorted, eyeing his young charge pointedly. A smile suddenly lighting his face, he nodded toward the windows. "Still yearning after that sunshine?"

Haven sighed. "Aye." That one word said so much.

Owen nodded his agreement. "Me too." He slung his arm around Haven's shoulders. Self-consciously, she fingered the thick braid she'd wrapped around her head several times.

"Where are you sticking me this time?" Haven asked quietly, trying to make a joke out of it.

She didn't miss Owen's hesitation. "With Prince Julius. He and his father, no doubt with an entourage of about a thousands servants and guards, are arriving this night," she added at Haven's quizzical look. The old man stopped and faced her. "Don't tell me you haven't heard? The entire palace has been abuzz about it for three weeks."

Haven shrugged. "I heard a bit here and there. You know I'm always the last to know things."

Owen laughed. "This is true. Okay, listen. Queen Katherine of Ethane is sending her husband, her son, and a carriage load of ambassadors to finalize a marriage contract." He shrugged. "I guess Ethane is in a bit of a financial struggle, what with the drought that ravaged their land a few years ago. Princess Crystalline's dowry would call for an alliance and help Ethane's finance at the same time.

"And you want me to…?" her voice trailed.

"You're Prince Julius's Head of Household." Owen tweaked her nose. "Serve him with the same 'fervor' with which you served in the kitchens." The two shared a laugh, remembered the piles of broken dishes and stained silverware and other numerous episodes in which Haven had exhibited such 'fervor' in her work. To say the least, it had not been pretty and the stint in the kitchens had not lasted long. "Come. I'll show you to where the prince is staying."

They turned off the hall and took a flight of stairs to another wing of the palace, hidden from sight. Unless you knew where to look. Haven hated all of these hidden staircase. If it hadn't been her nature to be mischievous, all she ever would have known of these close dark hallways behind the walls. However, many a night had been devoted to stealing away and inspecting the rooms that were kept from the servants and slaves. Haven knew the castle like the back of her hand and, she didn't doubt, better than King Marcus himself.

A door sat open to her left as she came to the top of the stairs. Owen ignored it, but Haven's curiosity was insatiable. She stopped short and peered through the open doorway. "Hey, Owen. Has this hall always been here?" She took a step into the room. It was magnificent – magnificently dusty. Crimson velvet, dulled with age, lined the walls, bordered by gilded wood, carved so intricately an entire life story was told within three feet of the delicate ornaments.

Large floor-to-ceiling windows lined one wall, but were covered in thick heavy drapes. Lit only by the light coming in through the hall behind her, Haven searched for the lanterns she knew hung on every wall. Finding one, she fished for the matches she kept in her skirt pocket. She lit the lantern and stepped farther into the room.

Blue and silver marble covered the floor under and inch of dust. She lit another lantern. One wall was covered in life-size oil paintings, paintings of past kings and queens. "These are so beautiful," she whispered loathe the break the serenity of the room. She reached for one and drew her finger down the side of one painting's frame. Dust and grime covered her finger.

"Owen," she called. He didn't answer. "Why has none of this been cleaned?" she wondered aloud. She walked the length of the wall, lighting lanterns as she went. Each painting was intricate and beautiful, painted with wisdom and care. She was about to call Owen for a third time, but stopped as she gazed up at the last painting on the wall.

The bronze frame hardly did the painting justice. A king stood tall and regal against a dark olive background. His green eyes stared from behind the layers of paint as if they were looking right at her, straight to her soul. She had to fight to drag her gaze away. One large hand rested on a woman, obviously his queen, seated in front of him, the other resting on a silver-hilted sword fitted to his waist with a leather belt.

Their clothing matched perfectly, most likely sown from the same fabric. The king's navy and silver uniform set off the man's chiseled features. It seemed as though he were standing right in front of her, rather than pasted to a backboard. The woman's gown matched her husband's in color, minus the various medals.

The queen, too, appeared to stare straight at her. Her gown complemented her coloring nicely, bringing out the slight blues in her hazel eyes. Her mouth curved into a slight smile, as if she held a secret close to her heart. In her arms rested a baby, swaddled in white and silver.

"Haven!" She jumped at Owen's voice so close to her ear. "What are you doing?"

She stepped back from the painting, the spell broken. "I was only looking. I didn't even know this door was here."

"You're not supposed to know it's here."

Haven blinked in surprise as Owen dragged her out by the arm, blowing out the lanterns as he went. If Haven didn't know any better, she would have thought Owen was afraid. But what was there to be afraid of?

"I was only looking…" she began.

"You don't need to look at anything. Let's go." His fingers dug into her arm as he pulled her away. He closed the door behind him, locking it.

"Who was that king? His queen was beautiful…"

Owen suddenly whirled around so quickly, Haven barely had enough time to stop herself from crashing into him. "Don't go there again, Haven. Promise me."

Even as she nodded she asked, "Why?"

Owen gave her arm a sharp tug. "Don't question me. Just promise."

Something was wrong. And as sure as the sky was blue she was going to find out what. She crossed her fingers behind her back. "I promise."

Owen stared at her a moment longer before releasing her arm and led the way through another maze of halls. All the while, Haven's thoughts tumbled around her head. What was Owen was hiding something from her? Why? How terrible could one little painting be?

* * *

At the same time Haven was being pulled by the arm through the palace halls, Prince Julius of Ethane was pulling his sword out of the last bandit's body and glancing longingly over his shoulder at his beloved country. It was in Ethane that he wished he could have stayed. It was in Ethane that his sister, Meagan, and her husband lay in their golden caskets underneath their favorite hillside. It was in Ethane that the Grey Death raged. It was in Ethane that he was needed.

Julius forced the memories away, knowing that it would be all too soon that they came to haunt him again. He turned to the carriage, where his father sat, gray-faced and solemn.

"Father?"

King Jonathan turned to him with eyes bright with tears. "How many more men, how many more women and children will have to suffer? When will it end?"

Julius climbed into the carriage beside him. "Father, what are you talking about?" It unnerved him to see his strong proud father with tears in his eyes.

"Will your mother be next? Or you? Or me?"

"Father, please tell me what's bothering you." He called to a guard to bring him a cup of water.

Jonathan glanced down at his hands. "Ethane has kept the Gray Death at bay with powerful medicines until we believed it was gone forever." He clenched his hands in anger, "And the moment Sir Gareth stopped vaccinating our people it struck our country with a vengeance. Now your sister and her husband are dead. I thought they had been vaccinated. That's why I didn't push them. I know you and your mother have been vaccinated; I was there with you. But the gray death is spreading faster than we can vaccinate."

Julius frowned. "Father, none of this…"

Jonathan continued, "What of those men we just fought, the ones whose lives were taken in a blink of an eye? They had the Gray Death. I could see it in their eyes as the sword cut them down. They _wanted_ to die. Now, how many children are fatherless? How many wives were made widows? How many . . ." His voice broke, and Julius was grateful. He didn't have the energy to sit here and listen to his father break his heart over something with which he had no control. . The guard brought the cup of water he had asked for and Julius held it out to his father. Jonathan took it mechanically.

He stepped out of the carriage.

"We're ready to push on, my Lord Prince."

"Very well. Lionel!" A short squire dressed in the silver and green of Ethane's colors hurried to his side. He bowed low.  
"Yes, my Lord Prince."

"My horse. I believe I will ride for a time." The squire bowed low again and went to saddle Julius's horse.

Julius stared around him as he waited. His men dragged the bodies of the dead men into the forest, off the road. He wished he could give them a proper burial. Now that he'd realized that their only intention for the attack was to be freed of the Gray Death, their murder took on a new meaning and weighed on his heart. His father was right. It made his mission that much more important.

"My Lord Prince." A courier, new to his regimen, knelt before him. Julius motioned for him to stand. "We have repaired what was damaged and will reach Tlaia by mid evening."

Julius thanked the man, all the while hating him for bringing up the reason for this sojourn to their neighboring country. If all was to go as planned, he was to marry Princess Crystalline of Tlaia gaining an ally and financial support at the same time. He turned to the east, squinting at the sunlight. He could see the cursed palace from here.

Hoof beats behind him gained his attention and without so much as a nod to the squire, he mounted his horse and made the call to move. Carriages and horses rumbled past him. The silver carriage holding his father had the curtains drawn.

Julius sighed. If all went well, no more men would be forced to succumb to death. No, his happiness was sacrifice enough.


	4. Chapter 2

**A/N - Just so everyone knows...I made a mistake and King Anthony's name has now been changed to Jonathan in order to coincide with the 'book' before this (The Secrets of Silver)...so just know that Anthony Jonathan...I've gone back and fixed the other chapters too, so...Anthony Jonathan...sorry for the mistake/misunderstanding...ENJOY

* * *

****Chapter Two**

The cry came just as the dinner feast was being served. The King of Ethane had arrived.

* * *

Julius couldn't help but be impressed with the royal palace. Turrets and carvings and smooth alabaster pillars spoke of centuries worth of history. Marble pillars gleamed in the dimming sunlight, attesting to the strength Tlaia was famous for, both in war craft and in diplomatic strategies. Windows, paned in crystal, shone bright, reflecting both the sunlight from without and the lantern-light from within. 

The grounds were impressively well kept, he noticed as he passed the gardens lining the road to the palace steps. Flowers and shrubbery, blooming in blue hues and white, were kept clipped and neatly trimmed. He glanced ahead, urging his horse to slow. The royal family stood on the steps ahead of him. King Marcus, who had taken the throne after his sister, brother-in-law, and niece were killed by the Gray Death sixteen years ago, stood arrogantly proud, still and hard as granite. His wife, Graciela and their daughter, Julius's future queen, stood every bit as stiff beside him before the palace double doors.

Julius grimaced. Even from this distance he could see the smirks that lurked behind their eyes and the arrogance in every muscle in their bodies. He was not going to enjoy this. He glanced back at the carriage that carried his father. If he turned his horse around, no one would be able to catch him. He hadn't chosen Darkness simply because the horse looked good…

He blinked his eyes hard, dispelling the thoughts. No. No running away. He was the Crown Prince of Ethane. It was his duty to act like one. He snapped his spine straight as a rod, put on his most imposing frown and followed the line of guards up the pathway to meet the King and Queen of Tlaia.

* * *

Her breath left little patches of moisture on the windows as she peered down into the courtyard. She knew she would probably get scullery duty as punishment if she was found watching the royal procession instead of attending to her new duties. It was easily justified, however. Owen knew how she longed for sunlight and the crystal windows were beckoning and there were precious few moments of real sunlight left. She hid herself beneath the velvet curtains that had been drawn some hours ago and watched with anticipation as the King of Ethane moved down the lane. 

The King's company moved slowly, giving Haven enough time to search out her new master. The prince wasn't hard to spot – he rode the biggest blackest stallion she had ever seen. Why, the horse was more magnificent than King Marcus's own mount.

The circle of tough looking warriors that surrounded him was her next clue. They rode beside their prince in gleaming armor, and with just once glance, even from her fourth story window, Haven knew they knew how to use the weapons hanging from their belts.

The prince rode just as proudlt as she'd seen King Marcus, but without the arrogance. He almost looked disgusted, but it was hard to tell from where she stood.

She couldn't see King Jonathan, but guessed he was in one of the bright silver ceremonial carriaged that were placed in the middle of the entourage of guards. She couldn't see King Marcus and his family from her position, which was just as well.

She couldn't stop staring at the prince as he drew nearer. She supposed her was tall, although it was hard to tell someone's height from horseback. His longish brown hair glowed golden in the dimming sunlight. He'd braided it back, out of his face.

She bit her lip, considering her new position. She hoped he was kind, unlike Princess Crystalline, who struck her servants for the most minor of offenses. The procession below her stopped and the prince dismounted. Haven watched her walk over to the middle carriage and help his father out himself, and without waiting for an escort, walked him up to the palace steps.

With a sigh, Haven thought of the duties that awaited her and tore her gaze away from the prince. She stole one last glance and froze as her gaze connected with his. He looked away quickly, before Haven had a chance to discover if he truly had been looking at her. Swallowing hard she turned from the window and stole stealthily down the dim corridors.

* * *

In the prince's rooms, Haven stood with the other servants lining the wall, waiting for instructions from their master. Glancing around, she saw that there was only one other female in the group beside herself. She didn't recognize her, but her plain gray clothing labeled her a scullery maid, one who lit the fireplace and kept the rooms clean. A third of the men wore the blue and white uniforms of messengers and couriers, half of the remaining men bore the navy uniform and black emblem of a royal guard, while the rest of the men wore the gray tunics and navy leggings of the cleaning staff. Haven herself wore a white long-sleeved tunic under a navy jumper lined in silver that reached to the floor. The emblem on her chest labeled her the headmistress of Prince Julius's staff during his visit at Gala. All orders concerning his welfare come through her. 

Her knees cracked as she leaned forward a bit to ease the pain from her heels. It had been almost three hours and the prince had yet to visit his rooms. Someone snickered, followed by a grunt, the result of an elbow being shoved into someone's gut.

She glanced around surprised to see many of the servants around her staring back. She frowned and dropped her gaze. She wished Owen were here. He would have known how to wile away the hours without saying a word or moving too much. His laughing gray eyes were never empty of a smile when he was around her.

The entire company of servants jumped as the door slammed open. King Marcus, all six feet and two inches of arrogance and egotism, entered, followed by King Jonathan and Prince Julius. Unusual, Haven frowned. Normally, King Marcus would never show a guest to his rooms himself, unless . . . he wanted something.

Haven almost smiled as her gaze gravitated toward Prince Julius. The prince was even better looking up close. She was surprised to see a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose, giving him a boyish appearance. His eyes were a startling silver, the symbol of Ethane's legacy. And he certainly was tall, taller than King Jonathan who was no short man to begin with. He towered over Marcus.

"Your Majesties," Marcus drawled, "I apologize, but this is where I must leave you. I extend to you an invitation to break the fast with my Queen and I tomorrow morning. After that, let the negotiations begin." He bowed in customary etiquette of king-to-king, arms crossed, palm on his shoulders, bowing from the waist and without a word stalked from the room.

Haven swallowed hard as she watched the exchange. Show time.

* * *

Julius stared in disgust after their host. The fat old man had the gleam of greed in his eyes, a sneer in his lips. He had instantly disliked their host, much to his father's chagrin. The man was evil, he was sure. 

"Who is in charge here?"

Jonathan's words broke him out his reverie and he turned to the outpost of servants assigned to him. A young woman, one of only two in the room stepped forward.

Julius found he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She didn't raise her eyes to meet his as was customary between sovereign and subject, he even beneath her lowered lashes he saw the brilliant green hue of her eyes. Her thick honey-colored hair was rightly braided and wrapped around her head and her white and navy ensemble accentuated her slender figure. He frowned slightly. This girl couldn't be more than fifteen, he mused as she swept her skirt to the sides in a curtsy that was almost too low.

His heart constricted at this slight show of nervousness. She straightened. Julius noticed the other servants just then, all as well groomed and professional as this young woman here.

"Your majesties," Her voice was soft and light, "I am Haven, the headmistress during your stay here at the Royal Palace." She turned to Jonathan without meeting his eyes. "Would you care to see to your rooms, Your Majesty?"

Jonathan smiled, enamored. There was something familiar about her…Jonathan found he couldn't think any further. He was just wanted to sleep. It was bad enough Marcus had kept them from relaxation for nearly three hours simply to introduce them to the ambassadors and other dignitaries that would be devising the marriage contract. "Please, Mistress Haven, I believe I would."

With the barest nod of her head, an older man with graying hair and missing his two front teeth stepped forward to stand beside her. "This, Your Majesty, is Thearen. He will take you to your rooms, where I am sure you will be most comfortable."

Julius watched as his father stared at the young woman. He had a desire to do so too, but it was much more entertaining to watch his father become captivated by a servant girl. "Father?"

Jonathan started, but didn't take his gaze away from Haven, whose eyes were still riveted on the carpeted floor in respect. "Yes, excuse me. I believe I will retire." He stared at the girl a moment longer, before following Thearen though an adjoining door.

"Please, continue, Mistress Haven," Julius spoke when his father continued.

Haven nodded slightly once again. A bustle of activity ensued and soon all were attending to their jobs. The only one left after a few moments was Haven, who had not moved, her eyes in rapt attention to the floor. She stood straight and tall, her hands clasped loosely in front of her.

"I believe that will be all, Mistress Haven," Julius said after a moment.  
She curtsied, and without a word left through a hidden door to her left. "I'll be back in the morning, my Lord."


	5. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Haven didn't return to her room straight away. Instead, taking advantage of what could be the last moments of free time in a long while, she wandered nonchalantly past the hollow suit of armor at the end of the hall. Glancing around, making sure no one was looking, she pulled out a brunette wig and a gray uniform.

Owen would wonder where she had gone after seeing to the prince's suites, but she wouldn't get another chance like this for a while now. Slipping into a dark corner she quickly changed into the scullery maid's uniform and slipped the wig over her honey-colored hair. If she kept her face down, no one would recognize her in the scarcely lit hallways.

She shoved her shirt and jumper into the suit of armor and glanced around. She quickly got her bearings and with quick silent footsteps disappeared down the hall. She navigated her way down the hall. She made her way through hidden hallways, dodging the halls that were frequented the most.

When she arrived at her destination, she pushed the secret knob she knew all hidden door had. The door slid open with a silent whoosh. Smiling triumphantly, she wondered what Owen would do if he found out she had come here again after he ad strictly forbidden her to do so.

She stepped into the room.

"Excuse me?"

Haven nearly cried out at the sound of the voice. She whirled. A young man, dressed as a kitchen servant stood behind her. She hadn't even heard him approach.

"Yes?" she gasped.

"I believe I've gotten myself lost. I have messages to deliver and I'm not exactly sure where I am going."

Haven frowned. What was a kitchen boy doing delivering messages? Hesitantly, she nodded, and stepped toward him. Her wig caught on a nail sticking out of the wall and it fell from her head. The braid she had tightly coiled around her head slipped and fell to her waist.

She let out a soft cry. "Oh, excuse me." She blushed furiously. "No one was supposed to know I was here."

She glanced at the young man. "You won't tell will you?"

He expression worried her. His gray eyes were wide with surprise, bewildered, his mouth hanging open. He shook his head, collecting himself. "Of course not."

Haven smiled with relief.

Julius stared at her. Obviously she didn't recognize him. He'd counted on the poor light of the palace to discolor the recognizable pallor of his eyes and it seemed to do just that.

"Might I have your name, mistress?" He fought to keep his voice steady.

"If you tell me yours first."

He blinked. Never would he have thought that the meek girl that stood before a king would be so bold behind closed doors. He stammered for an answer. "Lucas," he muttered after a moment. "I'm new."

Haven laughed. For a moment he thought he might also but he was too stunned. Her laugh fit her, high and genuine, soft and lovely.

"Obviously," she said between chuckles.

Julius laughed then, too. "And how long have you been here?"

Haven raised an eyebrow. "All my life."

"Truly?"

"Truly."

Julius leaned forward to peer into the dark room behind her. "What's in there that's so important that you have to sneak around to look at it?"

"Oh," Haven led him into the room, closing the door behind them. She lit the lanterns and led him across the room. "There's a painting down here, a painting Owen doesn't want me to look at. I wanted to know why."

"What is it a painting of?" He followed her to the other side of the hall. She stopped before a life size painting of a man and his wife and child.

"A king," she said softly. She stepped closer to the painting, fingering the golden inscription at the bottom. It read:

King Talon Charles (1123-1149)

36th King of the Kingdom of Tlaia

His Queen Rachel Magdalena (1128-1149)

Crown Princess Isolde Madelina (1147-1149)

"What's so important about this painting?"

She didn't answer him right away. After a moment she said softly, "I don't know." She shrugged, drawing her fingers from the inscription. "Owen wouldn't tell me."  
"Who's Owen?"

"The Master of Ceremonies." She smiled up at him. "He practically raised me."

Julius nodded and turned his attention back to the painting. The king, Talon, stood tall and regal, unlike Marcus who was all pride and no heart. Although he didn't smile, his green eyes did and they struck him as familiar although he was sure he'd never met the man. The queen sat delicately in front of her husband, and Julius wondered what had made her smile so. The babe sleeping in her mother's arms looked peaceful, and Julius marveled at the artist's skill, for it seemed as thought the babe breathed.

Haven turned her perusal away from the painting and leaned against the wall, near Queen Rachel's pose. Why had Owen forbidden her to go near the painting? What was so untouchable? What secret did it hold?

Julius watched her for a moment before glancing back at the painting. He froze. He glanced back at Haven. Back at the painting.

He gasped.

She opened her eyes. "What? What's wrong?"

"Turn around. Look."

She turned and looked once again at the painting. "What is it?"

"Don't you see it?"

"See what?"

"The resemblance!"

"What resemblance?"

"Between you and Queen Rachel!"

Have turned back to him. "Is your eyesight all right?"

He sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her until she was facing the painting. "What do you see?" He spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child.

She stiffened. "I see a painting of a man and a woman."

"You want to know what I see?"

Haven rolled her eyes. "What?"

"I see you."

Haven laughed, scoffing at him. "What ridiculous nonsense." Resemblance between her and the late Queen Rachel? Even if she had ever managed to become half as beautiful, nothing could compare the Queen's beauty to her own plain features

Julius couldn't help but glance between girl and painting. "Are you blind?" he asked, waving his hand at the painting. "It's uncanny."

Haven didn't want to look at the painting any longer. "No, Lucas. Come on. You still have messages to deliver." A huge yawn suddenly rose in her throat and escaped in a loud breath. "And I must be getting to sleep. I have to rise early to wait on the foreign prince." She made her way out of the room, turning off the lanterns as she went.

Julius followed, keeping silent. Maybe it was best to change the subject.

For now.

"Were you born here?" He held the door open for her.

Haven gave him a strange look and slid past him. "I don't know where I was born. Owen told me that I just showed up one day on the palace kitchen steps. No note, no nothing. They think I was about one and a half as near as they can tell."

"It must have been hard not growing up without a family, a mother or a father." Julius thought of his own parents. Jonathan could be irritating at times with the constant demand that his son marry well in order to fulfill his duty to the crown, but Julius loved him and respected him greatly. His mother, Katherine placed great value on the importance of family.

Thoughts of his family led to thoughts of his sister, lying cold as death beneath the ground. He forced his attention back to Haven. She had seen his frown and was watching him intently.

"What's wrong, Master Lucas?" she asked as she turned down another corridor.  
Julius blinked, trying to break the spell her gaze seemed to hold over him. He suddenly wanted to make her laugh again. "Nothing. And please, call me Lucas. The 'master' makes me feel old."

He didn't get a laugh out of her, but she smiled. For some reason, he felt ridiculously pleased with himself.

"All right. Lucas," she conceded.

Forcing himself to remember that he was playing a role, he changed the subject again. "I don't believe you told me your name," he said as thoughtfully as he could mister.

Haven gave him a crooked smile. "You are _very_ good at changing the subject, Lucas. However, since you asked like _such_ a gentleman, you must know that my name is Haven."

He asked the question that had been nagging at the back of his mind since he first saw her curtsying before him earlier that afternoon. "And how old are you, Mistress Haven? You can't be over fourteen.  
She frowned. Something about the way he said her name was…familiar. She shook the feeling off. "Aye, but I am nearly twenty and one." She glanced up to find his watching her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, perplexed by the frown that creased her forehead.

She looked up at him. "No. Only that we've reached my rooms and I must bid you good night. Oh," she cocked her head. "Drop the 'mistress'. It makes me feel old."

Julius laughed. "Then I believe that will be all, Mistress Haven. Or should I say…" he bowed low, "Haven." He turned with one last smile and walked back down the corridor, leaving her standing outside her rooms. Her eyes watched him go.

"_I believe that will be all, Mistress Haven."_

Had he…?

Was he?

No. Haven shook her head. The prince had said the same thing to her not a few hours before. Could it be? Than why would the prince disguise himself as a servant?

He wouldn't, a voice argued back in her head.

Haven watched his retreating back until she could see him no more. It wasn't possible, Haven decided. First of all, Lucas looked nothing like Julius, if only for the fact that Lucas didn't have Julius's glowing silver eyes. Second…

It just wasn't possible. Shaking off her bizarre thoughts, she pushed the knob on the door to enter her rooms for the night.

* * *

A/N - thanks to all who reviewed...your reviews are the only thing that keep this story going!! Keep reading! 


	6. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

A few nights later, after taking care of Prince Julius's suites and assigning the pampered prince someone to help him dress, Haven found herself wandering the halls, aimlessly. If she was completely honest with herself, she knew she was hoping for another glimpse of Lucas. She hadn't seen one glimpse of him since that first night and it seemed that no one in the palace knew him.

Not that she had been asking questions.

So, lazily, tiredly, she paced the halls, before finding the hidden room once again. Pushing the secret knob in with a sigh, she entered the room, eager, once, to see the painting that had caused her so much anxiety. She'd thought of little else. Did she really bear a resemblance to Queen Lillian? She shook her head. There was no way Lucas had been right. She was a commoner, an orphan. Bearing resemblance to a royal?

She scoffed, pushing the thoughts away. Slowly, she began to walk the length of the hall, staring back at the prim, unsmiling faces of the kings and queens of the past.

King Stephan, the founder of Tlaia stared back at her through beady little eye, his pug nose errantly scrunched in a scowl. He hadn't been more than thirty when he'd defeated the King of Sirua, claiming the lands of Tlaia for what would become one of the greatest super powers in the known world. But in the picture he was much older than seventy, consumed with wrinkles and age spots.

_I bet he was ecstatic when he saw this, _Haven thought with a chuckle, running her fingers along his frame.

"Sneaking around again?"

Haven whirled to find Lucas standing behind her, his arms crossed over his chest. "Lucas!" she cried. "Don't sneak up on my like that. You scared the life out of me."  
"So you weren't waiting for me then?" he grinned impishly.

Her mouth dropped at his arrogance. "How dare you?" She waved a finger in his face. "Do not think that for one moment, Lucas, that I am just another girl wandering around with her tongue wagging waiting for an attractive man to come about." Realizing what she said, she blushed crimson and turned away, heading for the door.

Julius grabbed her arm, chuckling. "Don't go, Haven. I was only having fun."

She shrugged off his hand. "Well, go have fun somewhere else."

"Haven! I didn't mean it." He took her arm again and turned her around. "I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you."

Haven bit her tongue, holding back a biting retort. Glancing up at him, she caught his sincere expression and her anger cooled. Shrugging off his hand once again, she sighed. "What are you doing out here this late at night anyway?"

Julius let of her arm, confused. How could someone be so on fire one moment then be placidly cool the very next? "I wanted to talk to you again."

Haven blushed, her heart skipping a beat. Growing angry with herself over her reaction to him, she said, "Why? I'm sure there are plenty of other young women who would love to drool over you."

Julius sighed, smiling. "So, we're back to that are we?"

Haven didn't answer.

"All right, fine," Julius said softly. "But that's just it though, Haven. Every one I've met can hardly even remember their name or mine, or where they're from. I've never had a real friend before. Well, except my sister. Even _her_ husband could barely look me in the eye."

His voice was terribly sad. Haven looked at him, puzzled. "Why? I mean, no offense, but you're a kitchen boy. Why would they treat you like that?"

Julius shrugged. "They just do." He took a shuddering breath, realizing how close he had come to revealing his secret. "I had fun the other night for probably the first time in my life. I wanted to have fun again." He leaned against the wall, looking her straight in the eye. He held out a hand. "Truce?"

Haven tried concealing a smile, holding out her hand. "Truce."

"All right, but not tonight."  
Haven frowned. "What?"

Julius put his hands on her shoulders and steered her down the hall. "Tonight you are going to get a good night's rest. I will not have you slacking off your duties because you stayed up all night talking with me."

Haven stifled a yawn, continuing to walk to the direction he had pointed her. "Indeed, Master Lucas, I believe you might be correct. For once," she added under her breath.

Julius laughed and pulled away, watching her disappear around the corner. _It is going to be a fine friendship between you and I_, he thought to himself, grinning. He chuckled softly to himself as he returned to his rooms.

* * *

As Julius pulled the silk sheets and swan feather coverlet over him that night, his heart pounded with excitement over his newfound friendship. For all he was twenty-five, his first real friendship had begun this night.

* * *

Jonathan had no idea where his son was. These were negotiations to benefit Julius and he was nowhere to be found. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair as he watched with growing boredom at the scene before him.

Twelve men, six from Tlaia, six representing Ethane, sat around an oval table just below the balcony on which he sat. The men below him were speaking in hushed tones, but the shape of the circular room made everything all the more clearer in its echoes for the monarch observing the exchange. King Marcus and his queen sat to Anthony's right. The princess and an empty seat where his son should have been sitting were to his life. He sighed audibly, instantly regretting it as it reverberated around the room.

Five hours and they were still going strong. A week into negotiations and they were still no closer to approving Crystalline's dowry than they were when they first arrived. Jonathan had a strong suspicion that a Tlaian old man, the Master of Ceremonies, was purposefully twisting statements around, digging them deeper into a hold Jonathan knew would be very hard to climb out of.

He sighed and glanced to his lift. The princess glanced back and smiled slightly before turning her ice blue eyes elsewhere. Jonathan wondered what she was really like. To his face she was the picture-perfect princess – obedient, kind, and respectful. She was beautiful for sure. He shook his head. He wondered what Julius thought of her.

Of course, Jonathan would have been able to find out if Julius decided to come to any of the meetings. Jonathan turned his attention back to the negotiations. What could he possibly be doing to miss such an important conference?

* * *

"I don't get it," Haven muttered to herself as she helped clean Prince Julius's rooms.

Lucas glanced at her. "You don't get what?" He picked up a vase that stood on the mantle and polished it with a wax covered cloth until it shined.

Haven tossed him a clean rag. "I've hardly seen the prince and I have no idea where he is. I mean I'm head of the prince's staff. Don't you think I should know his whereabouts at al times?"

Julius frowned. Yes, she should, but it wasn't her fault the prince kept disappearing. He hid a smile. "Shouldn't that be the guard's job?"

Haven thought about it. "Yes and no. I mean, what if I had an urgent message for him and it needed to answered in the next few minutes? I couldn't very well send out a servant to look for him. It might take hours, considering how large this palace is." She drew her hand across her forehead. "I mean do you realize this palace has eight floors and ten separate wings above ground alone? Not to mention the four below ground, and the gardens, the practice fields, the stables, the archery fields…I could go on and on."

"Please don't," Julius laughed. "You're giving me a headache."

Haven smiled. She liked this kid. "I'm giving myself a headache." She dusted a window sill. "So, you never told me where you were from," she ventured after a while.

Julius froze for an instant, hundreds of possibilities running through his mind. Belatedly, he realized he should have thought of this earlier. He hurried to remember what he had learned about Tlaian landscape.

"I – uh – I'm from Crossend. It's a town south of the Haldir River."

If Haven noticed his stutter, she didn't let on. "Don't you have any family?"

Julius cleared his throat. "It's just me and my parents. You know about my sister."

Haven nodded, somber. "You know, you never told me how old you were," she said pointedly. Instead of tossing him another rag, she walked over to him. He handed her his dirty one and Haven glanced t his hands. They were smooth and unmarked, telltale signs of one who had never worked in his life. She frowned. Julius pulled his hand away quickly.

He cleared his throat. "I'm almost twenty-six."

_Not so much of a kid now is he?_ Haven thought to herself. "Well, Lucas, we're about done with this room. Shall we move on?"

They moved to the windows of the Prince's bedroom. Julius worked slowly, watching her. She moved with practiced ease, opening up a seamless board in the wall, pulling out a stepladder. Julius gaped. He'd had no idea that was there.

"Are there many hidden areas like that?" Julius helped her set the stepladder up and held it as she stepped up. He handed her the water bucket and a gray sponge.

Haven scoffed. "All over the place." She raised an eyebrow at him. "You really haven't been here a long time have you?"

Julius shook his head. "Not nearly as long as I should have been."

Haven wondered at his choice of wording but shrugged it off. "So what did you and your sister like to do for fun?"

Julius didn't speak for a moment. The memories were still too fresh.

Haven put down her sponge. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken of her."

Julius waved hand at her, swallowing hard. "No, no, it's fine. Um, we had a pond at the back of our property. There were never any fish in it, but Gabby and I would sit on the edge and 'fish' with branches and string." Haven went back to work. "Gabby loved to swim, even thought the society we grew up in scorned women who didn't stick to protocol." He walked across the room to tidy to the table where the prince kept his letters of correspondence.

"Wow," Haven muttered. "How strict was this village? Not allowing a girl to go swimming?" She stepped up onto a higher step. Too late Julius noted the large crack. "Well, I mean, I've never been…" The step cracked in half, sending Haven scrambling for a foothold. She overcorrected her balance and fell from the ladder.

She laughed as she landed heavily on the Prince's swan-down mattress and coverlet.

Julius gave a nervous laugh, shoving the ladder aside. His eyes wide he hurried to her side. "Are you all right?"

It took some minutes for Haven calmed down enough to talk. "Whew. I haven't had that much fun in a long time." She pushed herself from the bed, ignoring Lucas's hand. "I'm all right."

Bells suddenly peeled in the distance, signaling the turn of the hour. Haven's stomach rumbled. "I'll get someone else to finish cleaning. I'm starving. And speaking of food," She led the way out of the room, stashing her buckets and rags where a servant would be able to find them, "don't you have somewhere to be?"

Julius groaned. Negotiations! Jonathan was going to kill him. Haven glanced at him, eyebrows raised. "Er…yes, I should get going. You know, to …prepare food." He lurched out the door. "I'll see you later, Haven."

She laughed. "Bye, Lucas!" She couldn't get over that kid.


End file.
